the truth's gonna hurt me a lot more than it's gonna hurt you.

that wasn't, apparently
going to work for you
as long as i was interested
you wanted nothing less
than to be my lover.
and so we parted
our separate ways
and i found others
to fill the places in my heart
you left
open
to drafty disappointment.
but

i wanted you.

and i certainly hope
you don't feel
that because i met
another lover
or two
or five
to fix the mess you left behind
that what you did
was justified
and okay.

because
i wanted you.

not a cock.
not a hand to hold.
not poems, walks on the beach, candlelit dinners at tables for two